


turnabout is fair play

by foreverautumn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, M/M, or something like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:06:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8666761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverautumn/pseuds/foreverautumn
Summary: Victor’s eyes widen. Five seconds pass; long, agonizing moments, and still Victor’s staring like Yuuri had just smacked him across the face.





	

**Author's Note:**

> \- this anime has healed my soul  
> \- this takes place before episode 7

He’s not sure when he decides it, or how, really, but once his mind’s made up, Yuuri refuses to back down. Of course, that doesn’t mean he isn’t going through internal turmoil at this very moment.

He skates over to where Victor is waiting, a broad grin splitting his face. Yuuri's still a little breathless, but he offers his own smile in return.

“Wonderful, Yuuri,” Victor says with an appreciative nod. His arms are crossed over his chest. Yuuri finds his gaze lingering on the firm line of his shoulders a little longer than it should. 

Yuuri blames both himself and Victor for being caught off guard as he continues, “When your body _becomes_ the music, Yuuri… that’s when you’re at your most beautiful.”

Something ignites in his chest, sparks and sputters, the way it always does when Victor just comes out and _says_ such things; says them so easily, as if he’s only voicing the simple truth, what everyone is already thinking. 

Yuuri’s fingers itch, and he places his hands on the barrier. Curls his fingers there, like it’ll help hold him upright. Victor’s smiling at him, that pleased sort of smile he reserves just for Yuuri, and he has to do it, he can’t let the moment pass.

“You have a nice smile,” Yuuri says. It doesn’t even sound like himself. It comes out stiff, lilting, lacking all of the surety of Victor’s own praises.

Victor’s eyes widen. Five seconds pass; long, agonizing moments, and still Victor’s staring like Yuuri had just smacked him across the face.

His cheeks flood with heat, and without another word he’s off, skating away to the center of the rink, resolutely ignoring his burning face and much more distracting, Victor’s plaintive calling of his name.

–

It takes two more instances of this– whatever it is, for Victor to realize what it is Yuuri’s trying to do. Whether that makes the whole thing better or worse, Yuuri can’t be sure. The somewhat expectant look that appears once he’s doled out a compliment - though not every time; he can probably tell when Yuuri’s about to blurt out something ridiculous by the look on his face - makes Yuuri want to both shy away and flutter closer.

He’s not sure what he’s playing at, what Victor’s playing at by going along with him on this, but he still refuses to back down.

How many ludicrous things he's blurted, about Victor's hair, his coat once, even - Yuuri's unsure if he's imagining it or not, but Victor might take a little more care when putting it on - and still he continues the torture. Two days ago he'd told Victor he moved equally as elegant both on and off the ice; Victor had called after him that time, but Yuuri had skated away so quickly he'd pretended the wind rushing in his ears had blocked it out.

He’s only causing more pain for himself in the end; how long does he expect to get away with this before Victor brings up one of his flubbed compliments? Yuuri can fully envision himself falling and cracking his head on the ice if Victor were to repeat any of his own words back to him. _What was that about how you dreamed of me when you were a kid, Yuuri?_

Yuuri would definitely die, and he’d definitely never win the Grand Prix Final if he were dead, so he continues to be thankful no confrontation has happened yet.

Still, it’s better that these exchanges happen on the ice, as Yuuri can skate away and pretend he hasn’t just embarrassed himself immensely, and Victor faithfully plays along with this too. Sometimes he’ll call after Yuuri, but he never actually chases after him, nor does he bring it up later. Again, Yuuri isn’t sure if this makes things better or worse.

He has no idea what he’s attempting to achieve with this plan. But it feels unfair, somehow, for Victor to always be the one praising Yuuri. Not that it’s unusual for a coach to highlight the things their student is excelling in, but– it’s more than that, it’s Victor’s eyes glued to him on the ice, the impact of his words heavier and more meaningful than anyone else’s. Because he’s _Victor_ , not only Victor Nikiforov his coach and childhood idol, but Victor. _Just Victor._

Is it wrong to feel like he needs to even the playing field? To give back a little, instead of continuously take? Maybe it’s dangerous to think this way, but now that he’s started, how can he stop?

Because there are just so many things he wants to tell Victor, and though he lacks the words, he can’t stop from trying, can he? There’s only so much he can express out on the ice, and though Victor is watching, so intently, though Yuuri hopes dearly he must understand all of the things Yuuri can’t bring himself to say - well, how is that fair? Doesn’t he deserve that spark he so often causes to burn bright in Yuuri’s own chest?

So he continues to fumble along, offering awkward compliments and relishing in the look on Victor’s face afterward; he allows himself this for only a moment before skating off, hiding his own smile.

–

It’s after one particularly embarrassing compliment - something like _the ice reminds me of your eyes_ , which could actually seem kind of rude, if he thinks it over - but he’s not able to spend that much time dwelling on it, because Victor’s reached out, fingers warm where they’re clasped around Yuuri’s arm.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is low, unlike the times before when he’d shouted after Yuuri. He yearns to pull away, more so than he ever has before, but he stays still. Doesn’t turn around, either, but Victor doesn’t ask him to.

“You don’t have to push yourself, you know.” Yuuri’s heart pounds, throat tight. “I’m happy to tell you what I think of you.” A pause. Why is it so hard to breathe? 

“How beautiful you are.”

The words hang in the air. Victor’s hold loosens, fingers slipping downward. It feels endless, the path they travel. They linger lightly around his wrist before dropping away.

Yuuri could still run from this, hide himself away like he’s always done. But would that be fair? He’s tried to tell himself he’s doing this to be fair to Victor, in a way, but are half-hearted remarks like the ones he's been giving really the proper way to express what’s in his heart?

Somehow, Yuuri turns around, is able to see the open fondness on Victor’s face as he says, “That’s good enough for me, Yuuri.”

And despite the way the words cause warmth to fizzle in the pit of his stomach, dancing through to his very toes, his fingertips, Yuuri finds himself saying, “It’s not enough for me.”

There’s that look of surprise, again, that one that Yuuri loves - _let me always continue to surprise him_ \- and Yuuri reaches out, hand atop Victor’s on the barrier. It’s hard - it isn’t in his nature to be this bold, but Victor’s awoken another side of him, one he longs to be able to embrace.

“I want,” he begins, faltering. What does he want? _I want your eyes on me._

And they are on him, clear, beautiful blue eyes fixed only on Yuuri. Satisfaction seeps deep into his bones, and _oh_ , Yuuri thinks he might know what he’d been aiming for with this all along.

“I want to tell you, too,” he says. He’s afraid of stuttering, of ruining the moment, but Victor stares, transfixed. “What I think of you.”

_How beautiful you are._

Yuuri wants to say it, how he longs to, but his heart’s so full he doesn’t know what will come out of his mouth if he opens it. As it is, Victor’s gaze softens, so adoring, warm, like the smile tugging at his lips. He shuffles the hand beneath Yuuri’s until their fingers are properly laced together.

“So tell me,” Victor says, still smiling. _Expectant_ , Yuuri recognizes, but also something more. There’s a dash of color to his cheeks, a look in his eyes that leaves Yuuri breathless. He has never wanted to tell him more.

He falters, instead; the boldness that had been driving him dies away, leaving him to flounder helplessly. Suddenly he feels embarrassed, exposed; he tries not to freeze up, to panic, tries to root himself in the feeling of Victor’s hand wrapped around his–

Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat when Victor’s other hand darts out, finding purchase on Yuuri’s back. Before he can protest - or sigh in relief, he isn’t sure which - Yuuri is pulled forward into an embrace, their hands still tangled together. How hard can his heart pound, he wonders, before it’ll burst straight out of his chest?

“I’ll be listening,” Victor murmurs, lips pressed to Yuuri’s hair. “When you’re ready, Yuuri, I’ll be listening.”

Once again, Victor’s meeting him where he stands. He buries his face into Victor’s shoulder, lets his fingers press into Victor’s back. He wishes desperately that the wall were not between them - that everything would fall away, between them. He lets out a shuddering breath.

“Okay,” he says, the word muffled. He doubts Victor can understand him, but even so, his hand rises, comes to cradle the back of Yuuri’s head. Like he’s something precious, to be held dear. Yuuri wonders how it is that, despite his lack of words, Victor understands him so very well.

**Author's Note:**

> This is only a short little thing, but the anime is already so perfect I have a hard time writing for it?? If that makes sense... I wasn't kidding when I said it heals my soul btw, I'm so glad for the people who pushed me to watch it (gentle tears)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read this♥!


End file.
